


Yggdrasil's Blessed Lights

by AllTheLokisWelcome7



Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 06:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19420363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheLokisWelcome7/pseuds/AllTheLokisWelcome7
Summary: The Winter Solstice is celebrated in Sniflheim every year, but Krystalinda has never had the chance to see it until now. Her queen, ever the source of light and knowledge, explains to her the customs that she missed, before a shift in the weather brings them closer than ever before.





	Yggdrasil's Blessed Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, a pairing of queer women that I ship! I've been searching for something like this for three months now, but with these two, I've finally found a good dynamic. I'm so glad that I got to play this game.
> 
> Since I was working all through the Solstice this year, this is a little late, but also the perfect time to post it. Joyous Solstice, everyone, and I hope your Pride Month has been excellent.

Physically, the night felt like any other in Sniflheim, the cold air biting viciously at exposed skin. But tonight, the people of this queendom huddled outside, wrapped in their warmest clothing and abuzz with excitement. Their blissful energy was infectious, leaving Krystalinda in awe of the collective power that threatened to dwarf her own.

Frysabel stood before them all, gleaming sceptre gripped firmly in a gloved hand as she surveyed her precious supporters. With little more than a raised palm, she commanded their silence effortlessly, the only remaining sounds being the crackling of bonfires placed strategically around the square.

“Dearest people of Sniflheim. As you all know, tonight is the Solstice. Here we put another year of hardships behind us. Tomorrow is the first day of the new joys that await us once more. Let us give our thanks to Blessed Yggdrasil, and feast until the weaving lights leave our sky!”

Her arms rose to the sky, the large jewel set in her sceptre flickering with the light from the torches that each citizen held aloft. Their shouts of agreement filled the night as loudly as the vibrant lights that moved ceaselessly through the sky. No one knew what caused them, but this ritual had held the people of Sniflheim together for centuries, a rare cause for celebration that returned to them at this time every year.

As her arms fell to her sides, the people proudly held their torches high above their heads before they turned to their neighbours, lighting sconces and candles as they filed around their choice of several feasting tables readied in the centre of town. Krystalinda kept to the edges of the crowd, quietly making her way to where Frysabel still stood, a gracious smile on her face as she watched over her people.

“Everyone is so happy,” Krystalinda murmured, breath misting before them as she took her place at her side.

“Indeed they are,” the queen agreed with a light nod. “My people have always known the harsh bite of snow and ice, but still we have found ways to thrive here.

“We keep the bonfires lit all through Winter to keep the city from freezing over. Festivals were created to celebrate life, and the gradual return of light to the days, which Yggdrasil graciously blesses us with on this day every year. Sometimes, Her lights guide us for a week or more. To pass the time, and keep in good spirits, we serve food and drink until the stars return once more from beyond Her light.

“Finally, we stay warm with fires and furs, and with each others' company. It is a wonderful time for us all.”

As she finished her small speech, a sharp breeze blew her shawl from her shoulders, and shivers wracked her body almost immediately. Krystalinda caught the garment by the hood, hurriedly fastening it to minimise the risks. Frysabel leaned under her arms as Krystalinda worked, pressing close to her for warmth.

“Oh, Fryssie,” she admonished lightly, flattening herself to her back as she wrapped her arms around her thin frame. Her chin found its place on her shoulder. Wisps of steam spread around them as she gathered the cold close to her core, the surrounding air becoming warmer as a result. “You spend so much time worrying for others that you forget to worry about yourself.”

Frysabel turned her face to meet her eyes, glasses misted at the edges, barely obscuring her vision. Her smile alone alone could melt glaciers, but the warmth that filled her gaze was like a desert in comparison. Were Krystalinda still in her younger years, her heart would flutter in her chest. Still, during her lengthy imprisonment, she had learned to appreciate the beauty of the subtler parts of life.

And Frysabel was doubtlessly beautiful.

The tremors assailing her had eased, but persisted. Concern sprouted in the witch's chest, gripping at her heart like a vine coated with thorns, and she held her queen tighter to her body.

“Ah, but Kryssie,” Frysabel added, bringing her gloved palm up to rest against her cheek. Her warmth, swaddled by the thick fabric, scorched her icy flesh, but Krystalinda would accept no substitute. A body burned by brilliance was preferable to one neglected in the shadows. “That is why I have you. You worry for me so much that I am happy to leave my care in your capable hands.”

One of her bodyguards hurried over to her with furs, which the witch took quickly with a thankful smile, cocooning her queen in a blissful heat. The woman grinned widely and left them to it.

“That is true, my love,” Krystalinda cooed, looping her arms around her once more. One arm dangled lazily around her waist, the other protectively settled across her shoulders.

No other word that existed could describe Frysabel's expression better than adoration, pure and unrestrained. It was delightful, observing the softness of her smile and the joy in her eyes. Krystalinda brought their faces close, equally cold noses touching, the air between them misting once more. She would leave all final decisions to her queen's discretion, but she could always offer hints.

No matter how Frysabel interpreted the gesture, it would always be intimate.

She closed her eyes, basking in the quiet light of the moment, accepting the bliss that had been denied to her for so long. Memorising every sensation was effortless, the fuzzy press of shrouded bodies and cold tickle of hair and breath easily the best moments of her life.

With her eyes closed, she did not see the courage that crossed her queen's face, but she was painfully aware of the movement as their noses no longer touched. Cold lips met her own, the press timid but intent, and Krystalinda smiled into it sweetly, her eyes opening just enough to be half lidded. Frysabel's eyes were barely open, shimmering and glazed above her bright red cheeks, and Krystalinda only held her closer in response.

“Even with these lovely lights in the sky, and the pretty men that have come and gone, you are by and far the most beautiful treasure I have ever laid eyes on.”

“Kryssie...”

Frysabel leaned into the touch so heavily that she almost toppled, her guardian witch quick to catch her. Her scalding face warmed her neck where it landed.

“I will always be yours, no matter what fate befalls your queendom. We will weather it together.”

Fryssie wrapped her arms tightly around her waist.

“I will never forget your kindness, nor will my heart ever waver. I am yours too, now and forever, my dearest Kryssie. If you will have me, of course.”

A warm chuckle ran through the witch as she lifted her face to the sky, painted green by one of Yggdrasil's changing lights.

“My dear, if it were up to me, I would never let you go.”

Frysabel turned her gaze first to her beloved, then to the sky, her hand innocently resting on her chest beneath her collarbone. As her newest follower had said, they would look after this realm. Together.

A cool hand found her own, the touch firm around her glove. Neither could think of a pleasure greater than that which blanketed them in this moment.

All was as it should be.


End file.
